


gloss

by Anecdoche (so_psychso)



Series: self indulgent mechs oneshots [3]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Gags, Gunplay, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Object Insertion, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vignette, if that wasn't patently clear asldkfj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_psychso/pseuds/Anecdoche
Summary: sometimes you project how pretty you look with a nice lipgloss onto one mister munitions timothy,,,,,,,,that's all folks, play with me in this spacegdi i just realized i forgot to put a summary, w/e its 1 am and i wrote this in like, 20 minutes i cba, the tags say it all, godspeed kings <3
Relationships: Drumbot Brian/Gunpowder Tim, Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Marius von Raum/Gunpowder Tim
Series: self indulgent mechs oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860787
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	gloss

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you project how pretty you look with a nice lipgloss onto one mister munitions timothy,,,,,,,,that's all folks, play with me in this space
> 
> gdi i just realized i forgot to put a summary, w/e its 1 am and i wrote this in like, 20 minutes i cba, the tags say it all, godspeed kings <3

Jonny most enjoys him like this, knees bruised to the floor, cheeks tear streaked, his lips stretched to blood and spit around the muzzle of a gun and traced by the careful diligence of the mate’s thumb taking stock of what is his. Never Tim’s, not like _this_ , not with the burning taste of polishing oil stinging the back of his throat, not with his tongue weighted down _wonderfully_ by the rhythmic slide of metal, of threat, of _he’s going to blow your brains out, and it’s going to be so fucking good_.

But that’s beside the point, is merely a side effect of the satisfaction Jonny’s after. Because nothing’s ever so pretty to him than Tim’s mouth put to work, lips gleaming, sucking or sighing or bitten or red or pink or any shade from there all the way to the ministrant application of so many gnawing bruises. 

Because Jonny’s not the only one who likes this. Jonny’s not the one who can barely stay upright for the cascades of heat pouring through every limb, every pulse point. Jonny’s not the one dutifully sucking off a gun and soaking through his trousers. Or, well the latter might leave some leeway, but Tim’s not allowed to discover that yet. 

That’s for after. When bullet and brain matter have been done away with, and he wakes up to Jonny’s cunt against his heaving tongue and a cruel fist in his hair. 

For now, though, he's eyeing the safety and the thumb that rests over it, half-lidded perusal. Pleading.

Jonny just grins, and shoves the gun that much deeper.

-

Brian prefers him somewhat gentler, gifted kindly enough autonomy to set his own paces, not that he doesn’t end up choking anyway, but it’s the formality, the ruse of niceties. Because Brian can really be mean if he wants to, and rarely does he ever, save if Tim’s just that right side of antagonizing, and he’s had ample time to learn the Drumbot’s buttons.

Like Jonny, it would seem he’s especially vulnerable to Tim’s more innocuous prowess, and an incident of biting his lip is all it takes for Tim to find himself prone on a bed with a mouthful of fingers as the rest fuck their way into his cunt, gathering slickness before moving down and filling up his arse. 

“It’s just unfair,” the Drumbot explains cordially, humming in his ear as Tim whines around such glorious intrusions. “Walking around looking like you do.”

He kisses the corner of Tim’s thoroughly occupied mouth, where a few squeaks and tremors manage to slip out.

And when Tim comes, he’s dimly aware that the only fingers inside him are the ones dented between his teeth.

-

Marius is an interesting case. Of course he is. The man loves to be as furiously vexing as possible, and his enjoyment of Tim is not immune to an oddity or two. 

Or, rather, something of an oxymoron. Because the good doctor can praise a blue streak over just about every inch of Tim’s body, but when he arrives at Tim’s mouth, be it by virtue of his own, or his fingers, or whatever sinister device he’s decided to inflict, it’s never quite clear to Tim exactly how their scene means to transpire. 

Presently, it involves the comparative docility of a spider gag, leaving Tim to pant like a bitch in heat as Marius takes him on all fours. 

It’s good, of course it is, deliciously heightened by the humiliation of the gag, and Tim watches the steady stream of drool sway from his tongue, his lower lip, as he’s jostled back and forth, Marius taking his cunt fast and deep and _good_. Till he’s unable to come like that anymore, and then the doctor has grace enough to fuck his arse, praising him all the while, opining over what a grand specimen he is, how fascinating his body and the duress it’s always so eager to weather. 

Tim rather thinks that’s a bit grandiose for a fuck, but, unable to voice his opinion, it doesn’t matter all that much.

-

The three of them at once, now that’s a feat of endurance. So many hands, so much heat and slickness and so many places to be stretched and filled and fucked and filled again, till he can’t tell if that’s sweat or blood or cum on his face, between his legs, but it always, always ends the same, always with as many kisses to numb his lips for the next week, always the fingers traipsing them, always the involuntary trembling as he sucks at the myriad digits or nuzzles the caressing palms. 

Always so much praise. Always how beautiful he is for them. 

And, always, a last and punctuating smile. Because it really is perfect, and he couldn’t be more satisfied.


End file.
